A Rainbow in Maine (with a little help from my friends)

It's incredible to me- and I don't think you can understand it unless you've experienced it- how quickly the people you meet in the places you end up go from strangers to best friends. I met so many people at camp, and I won't forget a single one of them. They're all such wonderful people, and sure, some of them got on my nerves sometimes (six cups of my coffee at once, Wojciech. We have to ration the caffeine!) and some of them I didn't get to know as well as I would have liked (Brodsky- even though I'm still not sure if you're a bigger feminist than me, you're still pretty awesome.) The only thing I can think that might be responsible for all the bonds we've formed is the environment that camp has created for us. Whatever it is, these people are my people now- and I love them all.

One very special and particularly important person is the reason I not only retained my sanity, but also ended up with rainbow hair for half of the summer! Ashley, it seems that this is the only photo I have of us together- which is tragic- but at least that night was loads of fun! I'll have to come to New Jersey and then we can take a million selfies and I'll do a blog post all about our adventures.

We both stayed up way past bedtime and painted a Manic Panic rainbow into my hair:

After sending her an early-morning completed-hair selfie so that we could make sure that she was the first to see it (that's only fair)- I paraded this new look around for the rest of camp!

As a side note to all you boys and girls out there who are afraid to dye your hair interesting colors because you're afraid you'll reduce your job prospects- that is silly. If I can do this, so can you. Rainbow hair, much like Camp, is all about expressing yourself in ways the rest of the world may not necessarily agree with, and it's a good way to test out things before you take them out into the real world. I, for the record, also got hired and currently have a full time job in the field I went to college for and was hired for said job with this very head of rainbow hair.

Take that, society.

My freshly rainbowed hair coincided (totally on purpose) with my last two days off, which were spent wandering the busy streets of Boston and having Huge Nerd Moments about history (and teaching a certain person from New Zealand that The Boston Tea Party was not a literal tea party)...

Boston is a really excellent city for history-viewing, because it's all in a very small, walkable area and they even have these clever lines in the sidewalk  (the freedom trail) to let you know if you're close to something, and what it is. Paul Revere, incidentally, is buried in the same cemetery as Mother Goose, so we got to see that too. After time spent in some really interesting and cool graveyards, we headed to a shopping area to people watch (and, okay, maybe shop a little tiny bit...)

I found this giant rainbow slinky in Newbury Comics, and obviously a girl with rainbow hair who finds her first giant rainbow slinky has to document the experience...

Day two centered around a field trip to the Science Center- which is located next to a loch, and whose main set of windows overlooks a pretty spectacular skyline. There's also a butterfly house on the roof (also overlooking said skyline)- which makes it practically the coolest thing I can currently think of.

They say if a butterfly lands on you it's good luck- but what if it doesn't stay there long enough for you to take a photo? One of this little guy's friends sat on my wrist for a couple of seconds until he was distracted by a colorful flower.

These butterflies (much like the sheep in Bath or the ones in the pasture next to Stonehenge) don't know how jealous I am that their views are better than mine.

On our way to a fantastic little Irish Pub for dinner, we passed the site of the Boston Massacre, and Sheep insisted that we stop for selfies. Sheep insists that this is the epitome of American tourism and is not an opportunity to be missed.

City Hall, where that particular historical event occurred, obviously still exists in Boston. The incredible thing about it, though, is that nothing else that originally surrounded it is still intact. Instead, it's been blocked in by tall skyscrapers and taller skyscrapers. That little building has a completely different view of the world than it did when it was built, and I think it's really wild that we get to experience it in this way.

Boston was a great city, and perfect for doing all those touristy things you think about doing in places like that. It was, however- and very surprisingly so- the first city I've ever been to that I don't think I'd want to live in. Places give you vibes I think, and Boston is a place of rushing and doing and getting done, and I'm not really looking for that kind of thing presently. It seemed disconcertingly... normal. Weird.

In between all the sports photography I was up to during the day, I used my nights (and occasional early mornings) to my advantage. I love nighttime photos, so that sort of worked out. Opportunities like this sort of make up for all the balls you get hit with... occupational hazard.

Just as things were beginning it seemed, the end of the eight weeks was upon us. I made my end-of-summer slideshows, we packed all the kids into busses to airports and trains, and suddenly camp was much emptier than it had been. I was feeling a little down when I got on my plane, but was swiftly cheered up by a very friendly delta flight attendant who presented Sheep and I each with a pair of Delta wing pins. Sheep wore his all the way home, and so did I.

Camp couldn't have been a more wonderful experience. I don't actually know what I was expecting when I signed up in February (other than that I'd be able to delay getting a grown-up job by a few more months) but it turned out to be one of the most incredible summers I've had in my (short? long? time is relative, grasshopper) life. I've made friends from Canada to New Zealand, and I have couches to crash on all over the world. We all made some pretty spectacular memories, and I wouldn't have changed a thing (except I maybe would have brought, like, three more hoodies and a sweater. Nights are cold in Maine...)

In addition to having made approximately 90 friends (and four or five new best friends)- and getting a chance to spend at least a little bit of time with that pesky sister of mine who was too busy travelling the world last year to be home pretty much at all- I also somehow evolved from a sun and physical activity/sports hating indoor person to a fairly outdoorsy, somewhat tanned person who hates sports slightly less. Okay, perhaps 'evolved' is too strong a word...No miracles were performed at camp (at least none by me...) but I realized there's a lot more on the list of things I can do than I previously thought. I managed, for example, for the first time in my life to kick a soccer ball in exactly the direction I intended for it to go. I climbed (the easy side of) the rock wall, and took photos of kiddos from the top. I even attempted baseball, which hasn't been a thing for years. I swam in the ocean, and I climbed a mountain.

I did literally climb a mountain but it's also a metaphor.

It's possible I would have learned all that stuff and tried all those things on my own accord, but it most likely would have taken me years to make it happen. Camp provides a safe and supportive place for everyone who shows up-campers and staff alike-to try things before they go back out into the real world; I took advantage of that, and it has instilled in me a desire to climb more mountains. As for the meeting of the people- there's no way that would have happened without camp, and I'm so happy to have met every single one of them. Even the weird ones.

Especially the weird ones.

An Unintended Social Experiment

When I decided to dye my hair magenta instead of letting the blue fade out, I was mostly just not finished with my 'questioning socio-cultural constructs of beauty and attractiveness from within the safe confines of a liberal arts university' quest, but this has turned into something much more interesting.

It's pink guys, it's real pink. I did it the first time over Thanksgiving break, and have since refreshed it, instead of switching to a new color. When I did it the first time, I noticed some pretty immediate changes concerning people's reactions to it. People always stared at the blue, but as soon as they noticed that I'd seen them staring, they would look away. Not so with the pink- some smile at me, some stare even though they're aware I can see them, and some will look away only to look back a few seconds later. That's the first big thing- the second big thing is the touching. So many people asked to touch my hair. I mean, it's just...hair. I know it's a surprising color and all, but it still feels the same.

Like hair.

That never happened with the blue.

It continues to occasionally happen, and only with strangers. It was a little disconcerting the first time an unfamiliar person walked up to me and said "Can I touch your hair? Please?"- It turns out weirder things have happened to me. As long as they don't just stick their fingers into it without asking first. That would be weird.

People say they like the pink better, but I think it may be because the haircut it accompanies is better as well. Some mysteries, though, will never be solved. I don't know what any of this means- I just know that it's an interesting little social experiment, and that I'm going to be sadder than I anticipated to see it go.

I know it seems silly, because my blonde hair is a very nice color, but whenever I see the roots growing back, it just looks so...dull. So normal. I'm not ready to go back to having 'normal' blonde hair. Wouldn't it be nice if nobody cared what color my hair was? If I could change it with my moods, and allow my impressions on it to change with the wind?

There are two kinds of little old ladies at the supermarket. The kind which scowls at me and turns the other way, and the kind which looks wistfully and longingly just above my eyes.

There are two kinds of moms at Target. The ones who steer their kids around me and whisper at them not to stare, and the ones which, with four children under the age of 7 in tow, tell me that my hair looks fantastic and that they wish they were that bold.

There are two kinds of people who drive pickup trucks. The old men who scowl unnecessarily out their window and into mine on the highway, and the women who roll down their windows and flash me thumbs up signs with huge smiles at stoplights.

Kids are the very best: they'll stare at me like I'm the best thing since pockets, and they'll smile like I've just told them the secret to happiness, and then they'll just accept it at move on. It's inspirational, really.

One of my favorite parts may be walking into new rooms and places and checking to see what sort of shade it is with different lighting. It was definitely purple at one point. Indisputably so.

It makes me smile to know I've brightened (literally. hah.) someone's day, and I can only hope that the people who don't approve are off somewhere having a powwow and discussing their archaic stereotyping habits. I like the general effect I have on people, especially since it's usually a smile. The frowns just make me laugh, anyways. It's also oddly comforting (and this is surprising because I am a textbook introvert), to walk around and know that everyone's staring at me, and it's because I'm fabulous. I've gotten rather good at observing people, because I know they're observing me. The people-watching may be a lot more conspicuous, but it's also exponentially more fun.